Losing Sleep
by DominiqueMorgenstern
Summary: Bluesey one-shot; Blue goes over to Monmouth for the night, and discovers one of Gansey's secrets.


Bereavement clung to 300 Fox Way like strangling, constricting vines. Blue had come over to Monmouth to escape, and as darkness had descended, she couldn't bring herself to leave. Ever gallant, Gansey had offered her his bed on account of the fact that he rarely got any use out of it, sleepless creature that he was. All night, she'd been trying not to linger on the fact that currently only she and Gansey occupied the building.

The scent of wheatgrass and mint, from the quilt bundled up into her face, had swirled around her like a formless cloud, and did nothing to stop her remembering the last act she had performed upon this bed, without anyone else's knowledge. When she'd opened her eyes to the moonlit gloom, she'd thought she saw figures, shifting and reformulating, all around her. She'd whispered Noah's name, but she suspected that he was too afraid to use her energy, after what had happened last time. All was still, but she was alert, heart thudding.

A drawer was suddenly thrown open.

When Blue investigated, she'd extracted from the drawer palm-sized cardboard boxes, boxes that rattled. She'd angled them into the moonlight and frowned. She had not recognised the names, but as she'd sat on the edge of the cooling mattress, she'd given herself over to a brief, pointless exercise of trying to convince herself they weren't what she thought they were.

She whispered Noah's name again, but nothing responded.

It all made sense. An awful, ugly sense that enveloped her with the heaviness of a tomb. She thought of what a perfectly, self-consciously crafted being Richard Gansey was. Those fake smiles. That fake voice. It was not Malory's now, but her own voice, that intoned strangely in her head, narrating the violent imagery of a Smaller-Then Gansey, falling prone to the floor, reliving near-death experiences; waking screaming from nightmares. She wondered if it had ever happened between these very sheets that she sat upon now. She remembered thinking, why would a boy like that need to learn how to armour himself? What was there to armour? Guilt was a sick, heaving thing in her throat.

She pulled on a sweater, slipping the box into the pocket, and arose. Her fear rendered her footsteps noiseless as she padded along the freezing floor, following the beaconed path of leaked light from Gansey's lamp into the next room, where he played architect with his mini Henrietta.

She sat cross-legged beside him, pulling the ends of her sweater into her palms. The fiery tears pooled in her eyes had not yet fallen, though Gansey did not glance her way, or otherwise indicate he noticed her presence. She delved her hand into her sweater, and drew it out, placing it in front of him.

Gansey's eyes, behind his wireframes, instantly darted to the box of pills. He dropped the glue he was holding, and straightened.

Blue did not dare look at him. Hunched to the floor, she whispered, "Before you say it, it was Noah that gave me them."

This was not strictly true, but he said nothing.

"Was I the only one that didn't know?" The tears burst from her eyes, drawing thick tracks down her face.

"Adam didn't."

Blue summoned the courage to turn her head. "Why—" she wiped the wetness away from her chin, "Didn't you ever say?"

"When could I have said? How? Why? Why would you care? Why would it matter?"

"Gansey," she pleaded, "don't say that."

He turned his head, his eyes half shuttered with tiredness, his jaw and cheek painted with smoky shadow and light, and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. When he spoke, he spoke with his real voice: the beautifully bruised, old tones meant just for his friends; meant just for her. From his breath emanated the softest whisper of mint. "Why not, Jane? Is it not true?"

"Of course it isn't. We…" her words of reassurance suddenly deserted her. How could you tell Gansey of how he was loved, of how they would all do anything in the world for him? "I'm sorry if you didn't want me to know."

He shook his head graciously. "It wasn't a secret. I don't take them that much anymore."

Anymore. She remembered Gansey's voice in the cave, and doubted the truthfulness of this. She threw her arms around him.

He exhaled as if he'd been fearing, or waiting, for Blue to do this. When he embraced her back, she burrowed her face into his hair. The posture was very uncomfortable. He murmured, "I've missed you." They had not been apart, but Blue knew what he meant. More tears escaped from her eyes, slipping between both of their faces. His arms, encircling her, tightened.

"The thing I worry about is that, when one day….when you go, I won't ever find anyone else like you." _I know I won't_. Sometimes she thought about telling Adam and Ronan, and sometimes secretly worried they might murder her to save him.

He pulled back, an uncertain crease between his brows. "What does that mean?"

_Tell him. Tell him. Tell him now tell him tell him._ She closed her eyes, and whimpered. Gansey leant towards her, smudging away her tears with his thumb. "Why are you crying?"

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for everything. I'm sorry for assuming you were just a – shallow spoiled rich boy who had no cares in the world."

He took hold of her left hand and smiled drearily. "Don't be sorry for that. I don't think that's something I'll ever be free of, no matter how hard I try. And rightly so, I suppose. Please. Don't cry for _me_, Jane."

"I can't stop."

He lifted the bare skin of her wrist where her sweater sleeve had slipped, to his mouth. "I wonder sometimes….what it is about a…kiss…" The pressure, movement of his lips against her skin was sensuous; was horrifying. She felt a warm wetness where he gently applied the tip of his tongue; was a shot of something foreign and smouldering through her.

He teetered on death's cliff-edge.

She whipped her arm away, looking away, ferociously rubbing at her wrist whilst she tried to disguise her breathing. "When you wake Glendower, do you think you'll come home and finally get a good night's sleep?"

She peeked back at him, and he smirked knowingly, avoiding her eyes. "If I'd woken Glendower…I highly doubt it. I can't remember what that feels like."

"Wanna try it now?"

Blue wasn't certain what had possessed her to say that, but Gansey, startled, nodded at her. She grabbed his hand, and led her back to his bed, where they lay beside one another, and where Blue eventually slept, until morning.


End file.
